I Thrill At Hopes Touch Poem by Cigar Aficionado

Sitting benched warming up she approached
to late to change
my mind.
She is fine she smells like the rose in your yard.
I had changed positions prior to her sitting up
wind in the sun baking off.
How old are you ask she?
I am old enough to wash your car will you teach
me to dance like the stars in the heavens to thrill
at the touch of your hand.
You are impudent replies she and demands all my
money being dirty and filthy I comply
in a hurry and leave.
The next day a thought comes to mind just because
she smells good doesn't mean she
will let you make some time.. on her dime.